The Master's Day Out
by Suicidal-Emo-Bunny
Summary: Reanimating and wanting revenge, the Master's just looking for trouble. [Sixth Regeneration of the Master as played by John Simm
1. Chapter 1

_Killed By A Woman. Worse yet, my wife._

The Master was slouched over a milkshake, slurping his woes away. It was an old 1970's diner, American style, with tables scattered around the place. Voodoo Child was playing on the radio.

_Christ. That takes me back._

When Lucy had stolen his ring just to remember him by, somehow, he'd reanimated. Obviously on fire and wrapped in what seemed to be loo roll, the Master had escaped with a slightly charred face an' splinters stuck in rather strange places. Getting away from the burning pyre was harder than he'd imagined. Many spectators were already crowding it, laughing at the 'strange man who set himself alight'. One of the less entertaining names. After escaping, the only thing to do was, apart from extinguishing the flames, buy some clothes. The Master didn't reckon the toilet paper would hold for long, and his most adored suit was still smouldering atop of the pyre. Finding the nearest New Look he could [his wife used to visit there often. , which happened to be inside one of the biggest shopping centres in existence, he stumbled in, pushing past certain individuals that looked in his direction with some sort of recognition. Mr Saxon was supposed to be dead, and now he suddenly decided to reanimate and stumble half mummified into a shopping centre. Grabbing what he could only assume to be a pair of jeans and a hoodie he hurled whatever notes he had tucked into his underwear, at the shop clerk.

"Excuse me sir-" The Master slowly spun around, shooting the teenager a filthy look. Another stupid remark about his toilet roll appearance, probably. He wasn't expecting the boy to say "-Here's your change." The Master smiled, almost warmly, and grabbed the cash from the boy's outstretched palm.

Outside, in an alleyway behind Nandos, the Master leant against the wall trying as best he could to pull the jeans on. A size 10 would never work.


	2. Chapter 2

Scribbling down on a piece of paper, now covered in ash, the Master was planning his objectives for the next few days:

Kill Wife.

Kill Doctor.

Kill Martha.

Rule World.

It seemed simple enough, just a lot of murdering and taking over the world, nothing new, nothing too difficult. It was just time to start completing the tasks, tomorrow would be the greatest day ever experienced.

-

The Master waltzed down London street, staring up at the London Eye and Big Ben. _Nothing much has changed. _He thought to himself. It might be the case as he was only dead for 5 minutes, but to the Master, his thinking was normality.

Down another road and Downing Street loomed ahead of him.

"Finally," he told himself, smiling and grinning manically. "This is the only place I can live on Earth." The gates seemed almost welcoming, as if doors to a prison, or a zoo. Security guards almost looked friendly, but as the Master approached the gates they stepped in front of his path, their shiny metal bodies glimmering in the moonlight.

"And where do you think you're going, sir?" The Master was taken aback.

"To my home. 10 Downing Street, where else?" The two guards looked surprisingly blank. "Me? The Prime Minister?" Again, two blank looks. "Just let me through." He tried to bustle through but the two men threw him backwards onto the pavement.

"Sorry sir, we've already got a Prime Minister."

"WHO?!" The Master screamed, his hood falling off revealing his scarred, burnt face and a vivid expression of hatred imprinted on his face.

"G-Gordon Brown," the men stuttered together. "But, wait…" one of them began. "Don't I know you?" The Master rubbed his temples. _I am Mr Saxon, how can they not remember who I am? _And then that's when it hit him. Like a train in the face. His hearts skipped a beat.

The Doctor.


	3. Chapter 3

"Look gentlemen," The Master began, thinking up a cunning plan in his mind. "My name is… Jake…Shears… and I actually live in a mental institute. My carers don't look after me very well and expect me to fend for myself." The two guards stared at each other in a mixture of amusement and disbelief. The Master decided he was on a role and continued. "And I'm waiting here for the lunatic parade. It's starting tomorrow morning and I really need to do a dress rehearsal and I seems that no one else is around, so I might aswell go back to the home," with a slightly stumble, the Master galloped back along the road he came from.

"That totally changed my opinion of London." The two guards were utterly stunned, not sure whether what just happened was real or not.

-

_Bugger._

First the suit, then his home; the Master was not best pleased. He wandered along the road, the lights from restaurants and chip shops blinking in his general direction. All the useless humans inside, happy and enjoying their food without a care in the world. Obviously not noticing the little man outside with the entire human race in his hand. Another light caught his eye.

_Joey's B and B._

"B and B?" He asked himself, moving in closer for a quick inspection. "Some sort of… place to stay?" It was a disgusting dump, the buzz of flies as the theme tune and a strange smell of what could only have been cat vomit. The Master sniffed as he entered the building, lightly pushing the splintered front door.

"Hello?" he called, stepping over the carcass of a moggy lazily lying in his path. "Great… the Master reduced to cats and a wooden house... how terrifying is that?" He leant against the counter top, being careful where he stuck his arm, lost completely in his own thoughts not even noticing the tiny man appear from behind desk.

"Excuse me sir," he called, causing the Master to jump backwards in fright. _What the hell… me? Scared?!_

"Er… hi," he replied, brushing himself down and removing the alarmed cat from his leg. "I'd like to have a room, whichever one you want to give me, just make sure it isn't full of cats." The Master sneered, staring at the algae growing on the ceiling. "Make that no fungi either." The small man giggled childishly and jumped down from what one could only imagine to be a child's stool, and lead the Master over to a rotten wooden staircase, much like the door, it creaked and crumbled under his weight, beams falling from underneath him as he toppled onto the floor. The Master rubbed his head, grimacing as the burn on the side of his face became, again, apparent to him. He was afraid to move from his position on the floor, looking along the corridor which looked surprisingly wonky to him, a noticing several doors and corridors leading off in many directions. Spotting a door that looked less grubby than the rest of them; the Master slotted the key into the doorknob and began shaking it like crazy. Beginning to worry that nothing in the entire house would work, only a small shove on the other side of the door forced it open, toppling onto the dusty floor.

The Master stared around the room, his mouth open wide. White sheets covered half of the furniture, a huge rug covered the broken boards, the bed covering what he presumed was the fungus, and on it lay a rather large tabby cat. It meowed as he moved closer to it.

"I thought I said no cats… or fungi," he moaned, resting the cat on the floor and pulling the sheet from the bed. After a few more sheets were removed, the room looked a little more presentable. A huge mahogany wardrobe was propped against a wall and a chest of drawers aligned the other wall. The cat still lay in the middle of the room, its auburn eyes surveying the Master and his experiment. "I thought I told you to get lost," he told the cat, who obviously didn't understand a word he was saying, and subsequently jumped onto the bed behind him and began pawing at the top of his legs playfully. The Master just grinned, turning around and scooping the cat up into his arms. "Fine." He replied to the cat's playfulness. "You shall be my trusty sidekick. We shall fight the Doctor together," he pursed his lips and frowned. "Might need a bit of a makeover first though."


	4. Chapter 4

Saxon.

Nice name for a cat, especially one with so much machinery strapped to its' body. It looked like a walking microwave, every so often pinging and whirring. It still loved the Master, even though Joey didn't. Ruining one of his many cats and turning one of his many rooms into a working exploding laboratory. He was just a total maniac, but the old man needed the publicity and so let the man, who called himself Jake Shears, keep the room.

"Great…" the Master realised.

He still had to pay the man.

-

Kill Wife-

Point one on the list and it was to be completed that day.

After a rough night up planning every move he was going to take the Master decided that what he would do was to make everything up on the spot. Downstairs, in what Joey had called their restaurant [just a table with a place mat laid upon it 'Jake' searched through phone book until he came across the name.

Lucy Saxon.

-

The George Robert's Mental Institution seemed as peaceful as it always did. As peaceful as a mad house could become. No patients going missing for a lunatic parade as a few men had reported the day before. Owen Stevens sat down for his daily tabloid read. The Sun was never his cup of tea, but in this job you enjoyed what you got and didn't complain. A few patients and their personal carers strolled out into the sunlight field for their morning walk. Owen knew he should get back to his patient, but she was just so bizarre and self reliant, there wasn't much point.

He partially remembered her husband, just never his name or appearance; it was just as if he was wiped from memory. Lucy Saxon was as crazy as nutters got, and that was a hard thing to say with the job he had. All she ever talked about was murder, some weird creatures called the Toclafane and some bizarre person called 'The Master'. It was if she had seen something else that happened and everyone had fallen asleep during that time. Owen sighed and got back to his reading [if you could call it that.

"Excuse me." Owen lowered his paper. The man standing on the other side of the desk was quite short with striking, rather insane, brown eyes, and a fat tabby cat perched on his shoulder which what looked like parts of a car stuck to its' fur. "I was told you looked after a woman called Lucy Saxon."

"That's right…" Owen said, staring the stranger upside down and holding his paper closer to his chest. "Who's asking?"

"Well… I am, and I want to go and see her, where will she be?"

"The atrium," Owen replied. For some reason he thought he could trust this man. "Down the hall to the left, it's straight up the stairs, big glass thing, you can't miss it." The man turned to leave, his cat purring and beeping. "Hey, wait a second," he turned. "Why do you want to know?"

"Just say… I have a close relationship with her."


End file.
